“What’s wrong?” she asked as they made it outside.
“Be right back with your car, Mr. Steele,” the valet waiting out front said, and jogged into the parking lot.
Finn bent over and braced his hands on his knees, drawing in a cool breath. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
“We should go back inside. You can lie down upstairs.”
“No!” he said more brusquely than he intended to. “I want to go home. I don’t want to be around these people or in this house for a second longer than I have to.”
“What happened?” Willow asked. “What set it off? Your brother’s speech?”
Finn shook his head. He wouldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t. It was bad enough that he had to remember his past and come to terms with what he had done and who he had been. He didn’t like himself. And he was afraid that Willow wouldn’t like him, either. Not if she knew the truth. If he was honest with her about what he’d done and how he’d treated the people in his life, she would never want to speak to him again. And he couldn’t bear the thought of that.
Willow was the only thing in his crazy life that made any sense. She was the anchor that kept him from being swept away by the currents. He wasn’t about to drive her away any sooner than he had to.
The valet returned with his Ferrari. He tipped the driver and they got inside. Moments later, they were peeling out of the long driveway and onto the highway, getting far, far away from the Steele mansion and the memories it held.
But running away from his family only did so much. His past had returned and no matter what he said or did, it would follow him forever.
Nine
Everything was different now.
Last night, as they’d entered his town house for the first time, it had been like touring an old historic house. He’d expected to see placards explaining the different pieces of art and furniture. There was no connection, even as he looked at his own face smiling back at him from pictures.
Now, with Finn’s memory suddenly restored, it was more like a haunted house than a museum. Everywhere he looked, he saw ghosts of the past. Female ghosts, mostly. And unlike at the party, he couldn’t run away from his own history.
With a sigh of relief, Willow kicked out of her heels. “I looked good while it lasted.” She made quick work removing her jewelry and massaging her abused earlobes.
“Yes, you did. I’m sure everyone will think I swept you out of the party early to make love to you.” And that was true enough. He’d done it on multiple occasions over the years when he’d been forced to attend one of the company’s tedious fundraisers.
“Is that why we left?” Willow asked. She turned her back to him and presented the zipper to her gown. “Please.”
Finn moved instinctively to her back. Ignoring the zipper at first, he opted instead to run his palms over her bare upper arms, warming her skin. He leaned in to press a firm kiss against her neck, appreciating the accessibility her short haircut provided. He loved a woman’s neck and the reactions he could coax by caressing it. He could feel her shiver against his lips and smiled.
Running his fingers across her shoulders, he traced the line of her back down to her zipper. He tugged it down slowly, grazing the silk camisole he found beneath it as he traveled to the low curve of her spine. He bit his lip to smother his disappointment. He’d been hoping somehow that tonight of all nights, she might be bare beneath that gown. He still hadn’t managed to convince her to take off her top.
“Maybe that is why we left early,” he whispered into her ear. “Maybe I faked that panic attack just to get you into my bed.”
Willow turned in his arms to face him, holding her dress to her chest. “Liar.” With that word hanging between them, she turned and headed for the staircase.
“You don’t think I want to make love to you?” he asked as he followed her upstairs and into the master suite.
“Oh, I believe you want me. I just don’t think that’s why we left early.” She punctuated her sentence by letting the gown slip to the floor.
If she had to be wearing something beneath her gown, Finn had to admit this wasn’t so bad. The ivory silk chemise was edged with scalloped lace that fell high on her thighs and dipped low at the neckline. She was wearing a bra beneath it, as usual, but it was more skin than he’d seen on her chest so far. Admiring the view, he halted when he noticed an unusual scar beneath her collarbone. It seemed like a fairly new scar, making him wonder what else she might be hiding with her modesty.
Willow paid him no mind as he studied her, focusing instead on scooping up her gown and draping it over the nearby chaise lounge. She slipped her headband off and set it on the dresser with her earrings. Finally, she turned back to face him. “So are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to tell me why we ran out of that party like your ass was on fire?”
Finn looked at her for a moment, weighing his options. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. She’d come cross-country to help him with his transition home. If she knew he had his memory back, she might not have a reason to stay. Especially knowing what Finn was really like. He knew he would have to tell her eventually, but not tonight. Things would fall apart soon enough when she figured out how unlovable he really was.
“It was my brother’s speech,” he said, which was true enough. He sat down on the edge of his bed and tugged at his bow tie. Lying to Willow made his throat tighten and he thought it might help to loosen his tie. It didn’t. “Everyone seems to get a big laugh from my old escapades. At my expense. But I don’t think any of it is very funny. It’s one thing to go through what I have and lose my memory. It’s another completely to not understand or even like who I used to be.”
Willow’s expression softened as she listened to him speak. She crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside him, putting a comforting hand on his knee. “You don’t have to have amnesia to not like who you are or to feel uncomfortable in your own skin. I think a lot of people do, but are too scared to change or don’t know how.”
Finn shook his head. “But what if I can’t change? What if my memory returns and I end up falling back into my old habits again?”
“Finn, if you want to change, you can at any time, memory or no. You’re already so different from the man I’ve heard people describe. Being a womanizer or not is completely within your control. It’s not like you have an awful medical condition or were in some disfiguring accident that can’t be helped or changed.”
There was something about the way she said the words that made Finn take notice. It made him wonder if she was speaking from personal experience. “Like you?” he asked, turning to look at her.
Willow opened her mouth, then closed it again. She turned away from him and focused her eyes onto the floor. “Yes,” she said at last.
He put his hand over her own. “Tell me, Willow. Please.”
She sat for a moment before she spoke, making Finn’s stomach knot tighter with every second that ticked by in silence. “I told you about my mother. And my grandmother. We found out too late that they were both at a higher risk of developing cancer because they had the BRCA gene that increases their odds of getting both breast and ovarian cancers in their lifetimes. After they both got sick, my sister and I were tested and we had the gene, as well. Having the gene is not a guarantee, but with the family history, I knew it was only a matter of time. Two years ago, I found a lump and I knew what it meant for me.
“After watching what happened to my mother,” she continued, “I decided that I wasn’t going to mess around. My sister said I was being paranoid, but I didn’t care. I was determined to live past forty-five and not pass on this curse to anyone else. So I had a complete mastectomy and hysterectomy. Then I underwent months of chemotherapy. I lost thirty pounds and what curves I had were long gone. So much of my long blond hair fell out that I had to shave
my head. This scar—” she touched the area of her chest he’d noticed earlier “—is from where they put my chemo port.”
Finn squeezed his eyes shut. He’d been blind to not see how all the puzzle pieces of her life fit together to create this terrible image. Blind or just selfish—he’d been focused too much on his own problems to see she’d obviously been through a lot. She was living basically as a hermit, hiding from the world for a reason. Her short haircut and small figure. The panic attack in the hospital when she saw the cancer patient. The fact that she refused to take off her shirt for him... Separately those things didn’t mean anything, but all together, the answer was obvious.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me about any of this?”
Willow sighed. “It’s not easy to talk about, Finn. I’m no spokesperson for breast self-exams. And it’s not necessarily something I feel the need to tell a stranger that drops into my life out of nowhere.”
“Is that how you still think of me? After everything we’ve gone through this week? After all the things we’ve shared? Even after we made love?”
“Of course not,” Willow said. “But by the time I felt comfortable enough to tell you about my past, I didn’t want to tell you.”
He didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Because on some level, it’s embarrassing. I’m damaged goods, Finn. Who would want me if they knew the truth?” She turned to look at him with tears shimmering in her eyes. “For one thing, I can’t have children. And for another, I didn’t have the reconstructive surgery. I couldn’t bear to face another painful procedure when it wasn’t medically necessary. I was tired of needles and drainage tubes, medication and discomfort. I wanted it to be done. Under this chemise...” Her voice trailed off.
Willow shook her head. “I don’t want you to see. I didn’t want anyone to ever see. So I hid away from the world to protect myself.”
Finn listened to her speak without interruption. He could feel the weight of her words as she confessed her truth to him. He’d arrived in her life and disturbed the peace she’d tried to build herself. He’d tempted her from solitude and forced her, without knowing it, to face her biggest worries and fears.
“And now, after seeing the life you’ve lived and the women you’ve known...how could I ever compete with them? They’re a bunch of gorgeous lingerie models and I’m...well, not. So I’m sorry if I don’t seem to believe you when you tell me over and over that I’m pretty, Finn. It’s because I know the truth. I’ve seen the ugliness that I’ve kept hidden from you.”
* * *
Once she’d gotten all the words out into the world, Willow could only hold her breath and wait for everything to come crashing down around her. Even if he’d cared for her, even if Finn harbored unspoken feelings for Willow...it might not be enough to overcome this. She’d told him all there was to tell. Short of taking off her top and exposing him to the harsh visual realities of her illness, it was done.
Now it was his chance to bow out gracefully, thank her for her help and let her return to the Pacific Northwest without making a bigger fool of herself than she already had.
“You’re amazing,” he said at last.
Well, that wasn’t what she expected to hear. She turned to him and frowned. “Were you listening to me at all, Finn?”
“Yes, I was listening.” Finn got up from the bed and knelt in front of her with his hands on her bare knees. Looking up into her eyes, he said, “And what I heard was the heartbreaking story of a tragedy that befell one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. What I heard was the story of you fighting to live...of you making the hard decisions to keep from repeating the same fatal mistakes your mother made. You’ve lost so much and yet you still have so much left to give. I know because I’ve been the lucky recipient of your gifts.”
Willow’s mouth fell open. This was the point where he was supposed to tell her how sorry he was about her lot in life and walk away. And yet here he was, on his knees, telling her how amazing she was. She didn’t know what to think or say to that, especially when she didn’t believe it herself.
“I know it was difficult to share that with me. If I had lived a life like you have, I might be afraid to open up to another person. Thank you for sharing your story with me, Willow. I’m honored, and not entirely sure I deserve it, but I’m thankful you chose me.”
“You’re too hard on yourself,” she managed to respond.
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” Finn replied. “Maybe we’re both right. But you rehashed your painful past tonight because you wanted to prove a point to me. You wanted to convince me that I could change and be a better man if I wanted to be. And you’re right about that, too. You’ve gone out of your way to help me since the day we met. And now it’s my turn to embrace the new, improved Finn Steele and help you.”
“Help me?” Willow questioned. “What could you possibly do to help me? The damage is done.”
“I want you to show me,” he said.
Willow’s heart sunk into her stomach. “No.” Why would he ask such a thing of her? She didn’t even like to look upon the scars herself. She wore a sports bra or tank top under almost everything, only showering without her scars covered up.
He took her hands in his and held them tightly. Probably so she couldn’t escape the uncomfortable situation. “You’ve trusted me with your story, Willow. Now trust me with this. Please.”
Finn was so stubborn. He wanted so badly to be different than he’d been in the past that he thought this was how he could do it. But he didn’t understand that if he was repelled...if he even flinched at the sight of her chest, it might not help him at all, but it could set her back months, even back to square one on her mental recovery from her cancer.
“I want to make love to you tonight, Willow. But I want to make love to all of you. I want to touch and kiss every inch of your body. I don’t want you to hide anything from me anymore. You’re just one step away from being completely open and you need this. You’ve been so brave through the whole ordeal. Be brave now. I promise that this step may seem hard, but you’ve been through so much worse.”
Willow looked down at him. He was so sincere in his words. And maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the nightmare she’d imagined it to be. In reality, there wasn’t much risk in trying. With the party over and Finn settling into his old life, she would return home soon anyway. Either he accepted how she looked, or he didn’t, but either way, she would be gone before long. Why not take the chance?
Deep down, Willow knew that was a lie. There was a risk. A huge risk. But it had nothing to do with her pride. It had to do with her heart. She had let herself fall in love with Finn. It was stupid, but she had done it anyway. If she wasn’t in love with him, she never could’ve told him the truth about her past and she wouldn’t even consider exposing her scars to him. Whether their relationship ended with a whimper or a bang, it would end and she would be crushed. But that ship had already sailed with her heart aboard. She might as well enjoy the cruise.
Without speaking, Willow untangled her hands from his and reached up for the silk straps of her chemise. She let them fall down her arms and slipped out of them until the cool fabric pooled around her waist. Then she reached behind her to unfasten her mastectomy bra. She closed her eyes, held her breath and let it slip to the floor. Then...a long and incredibly painful silence.
His hands were still on her knees, so she knew at least that he hadn’t recoiled from her. But he hadn’t said anything, either, which was unlike Finn. Finally, the curiosity got the best of her and she opened her eyes.
Finn was kneeling before her, just as he had been. He was looking her in the eyes with a soft smile curling his lips.
“Did you even look?” she asked. Was he playing the good guy by keeping eye contact and just not looking so he couldn’t make a mistake?
He nodded. “Yes, I looked. I imagine that was incredibly
painful to go through. But it isn’t the most interesting part of you, by far, and I wanted to look back at your lovely face. I think I like looking at it the best. I can see all your emotions dancing there without you saying a word.”
Willow looked down at her own chest for a moment and then back at Finn. If it didn’t bother him, maybe she could work toward not letting it bother her anymore, either. Perhaps she’d built this all up in her mind to be worse than it was. Or maybe Finn was just deserving of the love she wanted to give him.
“I don’t want you to ever be ashamed of your scars, Willow. Especially not around me. They’re proof that you’re stronger than the cancer. They’re evidence that you’re still alive. Be proud of them.”
She didn’t feel proud. She always felt like her actions were ones of fear, not strength, but she’d never wondered how it appeared from the outside looking in.
“May I?” he asked, reaching out to touch her.
She nodded, closing her eyes again. A moment later, she felt his gentle caress brush over her collarbones, her sternum and then lightly over her scars. It was a strange sensation. Some parts of her were numb, while others were very sensitive, but she didn’t mind this. He seemed to intuitively know how to touch her. This felt right, where little else had in ages. It even managed to set alight the flame of desire for him deep in her belly.
Opening her eyes, she covered his hand with her own, then leaned in to kiss him. “Make love to me,” she murmured against his lips.
Still on his knees, Finn slipped out of his tuxedo jacket and tugged off his bow tie. With a sly smile he sought out the hem of her chemise and pushed it up her thighs until the entire thing was a silk band encircling her waist. She watched as his fingers gently stroked her upper thighs, his hot breath searing her bare skin. She leaned back and braced her hands on the mattress when his fingertips grazed across the satin of her panties. Finn applied pressure to just the right spot and a bolt of pleasure shot through her.
Promises from a Playboy--A secret billionaire with amnesia romance Page 11
